Adytum
by kurgaya
Summary: Toshiro wished for his wrongs to be put right. Ichigo wished he had gotten there sooner. Hinamori wished she hadn't had missed, and nobody could understand why - no pairings.


**Note: **Title isn't _directly_ related to the story. Not for Momo Hinamori fans, sorry. And no IchiHitsu here, though you could _possibly_ see something along those lines if you squint. Another big thanks for my beta, **HimaRules**. This wouldn't leave me alone so I'd thought I'd relieve myself of this half-plot bunny and get the stupid thing written. I've never really written either Kyoraku-taicho or Soifon-taicho before, so they may be slightly OOC but I hope you enjoy this anyway.

Wasn't expecting this to be nearly this long, but hey, people always say 'write a lot about a little'.

Oh, and this story _completely ignores_ the Tale of the Lost Agent arc (the most recent), so no full-bringing here.

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><p><strong>Adytum<strong>

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><p>ad-y-tum [ad-i-<em>tuh <em>m]  
>noun, plural -ta<p>

1. (in ancient worship) a sacred place that the public was forbidden to enter; an inner shrine.  
>2. the most sacred or reserved part of any place of worship.<p>

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><p>Rangiku Matsumoto didn't bother to expect the unexpected, perfectly happy to remain oblivious to something right up until it smacked her ruthlessly in the face and ruined her hair and make-up. For if something truly were unexpected, then what was the point of expecting it? <em>Surely <em>that would defeat the point - if you always expected everything then nothing was unexpected, so you couldn't expect the unexpected because you were constantly waiting for it.

Doing this of course meant that she was generally worry-free about her future, living in the 'here and now' and fussing over tomorrow only when it came, and people tended to extend this into her bring a worry-free person in general, which was certainly not true - she worried about her taicho a lot, even though she knew that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself. And it was for this very reason that the Hell Butterfly carrying the two phrases "Hitsugaya-taicho" and "fourth division" and, god forbid, linking them together into an "emergency" sent several shivers up her spine.

Her taicho _never _handed himself over to Unohana-taicho willingly.

The butterfly was gone before she could question it, threaten to rip off its weak little wings if it didn't give her some answers to her frantic demands, and with a half-mind to chase after it as it fluttered out of the open window, seemingly without a care, the wide-eyed fukutaicho set down her glass of apple juice - trying to cut back on the sake - and vanished from the silent clutches of the office and the taunting smiles from her unfinished paperwork in a flash step quick enough to put Yoruichi Shihoin's 'Goddess of Flash' title to shame.

The sender of the message was sitting with his head in his hands outside the fourth's main operating room, and it was the way that he didn't even bother greeting her as well as the flashing red light on the wall indicating that the room was in use that caused her heart to sink down past its already settled position inside of her stomach, to her toes.

She slipped down onto the bench beside him, taking quick note of the way his usually sunny mop of hair was dyed red and drooping down to match his solemn expression. She frowned, reaching one of her hands over to grasp his thigh. "Are you okay, Kurosaki-taicho?"

Ichigo made a funny noise at that, a short laugh so dismal that she wondered if he had gone insane since sending the Hell Butterfly over to her, and she squeezed her nails painfully into his leg. "Kurosak - "

"Don't call me that," he snapped harshly, and she flinched back at the malice in his voice. "My god, don't ever call me that again."

Briefly she wondered if he was referring to 'Kurosaki-taicho' or just 'Kurosaki' in general, but not wanting to take her chances with either and face his wrath, she whispered, "Ichigo?" to try and coax some information out of him.

He promptly burst into tears.

Rangiku Matsumoto didn't bother to expect the unexpected; hence the reason why this action from the fifth division taicho came as such a surprise to her. She stared shamelessly at him for a moment, absorbing the hot tears and the terrible, partly controlled sobs like a sponge, before removing her hand from his leg and wrapping it around his shoulders, trying to pay no mind to how every inch of his haori seemed to be covered in somebody's thick, scarlet blood.

Puzzles were no match for her tenth division brain, but even one of those idiots from the eleventh division could work out that the Hell Butterfly message concerning her taicho and the bloody wreck that Ichigo were in linked together under one terrible conclusion.

"I won't ask what happened," she muttered softly, gentle, calming words following her statement to try and prevent the hiccups from her friend. "But I would very much like to know, if it is about my taicho."

Ichigo nodded, rubbing his snotty nose and sore eyes with the back of one of his hands. He looked incredibly embarrassed about crying in front of her, having never done so before, but she knew better than to bring it up. "Let - let me get changed first?" he asked. "One of the fourth officers has gone to fetch me a new set of clothes. I'm going to have to bin this lot later, they're ruined."

"Of course," said Rangiku, wanting nothing more than to ease his pain. "How about you go to the bathroom and I'll bring them to you when the officer comes back?"

He looked reluctant, but a push from the fukutaicho got him moving. He walked away with a tired slouch that Rangiku has only ever associated with an old man on his last legs, and she started to chew her bottom lip in concern as he padded around the corridor and out of sight. Sitting back against the wall opposite the single door in the hallway, she carefully placed her hands in her lap, apart and resting awkwardly due to her reluctance of getting anything other than her left hand absolutely soaked in blood; blood that, without a doubt, belonged to her taicho.

The next three minutes of sitting in silence was a killer, but thankfully one of the unseated officers in the division scampered quickly over to her, carrying a bundle of black cloth, and Rangiku stood to greet the panting boy.

"Do you know where Kurosaki-taicho is?" the boy asked with a squeaky voice, pointlessly glancing around the empty corridor.

"He's gone to the bathroom," said Rangiku, holding out her right arm. "Here, I'll take them to him."

With just a seconds hesitation, the officer handed the robes over, swiftly folding them over her unbloodied arm to allow her to carry them easily.

"Thank you Matsumoto-fukutaicho," he said, bowing to her.

She smiled softly and then slipped away in the direction that Ichigo had gone, waiting until she couldn't hear the boy's footsteps any more before shunpoing directly outside of the men's bathroom.

She knocked on the door, knowing that it might not just be her companion inside. "Ichigo?" she called, and he answered her promptly, "Come in Rangiku-san."

Trusting these words to mean that he was alone, she slid open the door and stepped inside, presenting the man bent over one of the sinks with the robes. Most of the blood had been washed away from his hair now, the evidence still splattered against the white marble trembling under his vice-like grip, and his dirtied haori had been thrown carelessly into the corner where it seeped blood across the floor. He looked over at her when she walked in, sending her a grateful smile as he took the clothes from her.

"Er, mind turning around?"

She giggled despite the situation, spinning on her heels to give him some privacy.

"Don't you dare look," he commanded, though she could already hear him discarding his kosode and hakama-himo. They too were chucked into the corner, creating a messy pile that stank the room out with blood, but neither of the two made any comments on it as Ichigo stepped out of his hakama, ripped off his waraji and tabi, and then fought against the white shitagi that stuck mercilessly to his chest. The clean set was put back on just moments later, and Ichigo let out a sigh as he cast a hateful glare at his previous shihakusho.

"Alright, you can turn around."

Rangiku did so, just as he picked up his waraji and frowned. "Gonna need a new pair of these, too," he grumbled, throwing them onto the pile. "Just remind me not to shunpo anywhere," he added, and she glanced down to see that the unseated officer had not handed her a replacement pair of shoes for him.

"Unohana-taicho might not be very pleased with you walking around just in your tabi," she commented, but obviously this had been a mistake as his scowl deepened.

"Yeah well, she's a bit busy at the moment," he snapped sourly. "Fucking kido."

She blinked in surprise and he flushed. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that." And he sank hopelessly to the floor, running a hand through his lifeless hair. "But I - god, I don't know what to do any more."

Feeling like they were going to be here for a while, she sat down with him. He sighed again, his whole body sagging, and she asked, "What happened, Ichigo?"

He looked very much like somebody had just killed his puppy, and he whined pathetically, pulling at his hair. "I don't even know where to begin!" he started, groaning. "I wasn't even there at the time - fuck, wish I had been, I might have been able to prevent it!"

"Or you might have just sustained the same injuries," added a voice, and Rangiku spun around as Ichigo gave a cry.

"Kyoraku-san!" He jumped to his feet to wordlessly greet the taicho standing in the door frame with an expression almost as miserable as Ichigo's.

He, too, was covered in blood.

"Do you know if he's gonna be okay?" Ichigo demanded. "Is Unohana-taicho gonna be able to save him?"

'Save him'. Those two words hit Rangiku like a ton of bricks. Not 'heal him' or 'cure him' - _'save him'_, as if her taicho was heading full speed ahead into the zone of 'too far gone' and - and -

"I don't know," mumbled Kyoraku, tilting his straw hat down sadly. "But he's in capable hands, that's for sure. We just have to trust that Retsu can put him back together."

Ichigo snapped a curse and turned back around to face Rangiku.

"This sucks!" he shouted, throwing his arms up to emphasize his anger as he stalked back across the room and once again planted himself in front of the mirror above the sink. "Oh crap," was what was muttered next, and the watching shinigami stayed quiet as the ginger taicho turned the tap to let the water flow. They both knew what he was doing, having seen the remains of the tear-streaks down his face, but they didn't jest or tease as Ichigo hastily splashed water onto his face.

He obviously wasn't used to washing tears away.

Rangiku wanted to do nothing more than to ask what was wrong with her taicho, to ask what had happened to him and if he was going to be okay, but she felt that doing so would be out of place; demanding and rude of her, so she just sat awkwardly on the floor, nervously drumming her fingers against her leg.

"It wasn't your fault, Ichigo-kun," said Kyoraku as Ichigo turned the tap off and used his sleeve to dry his face. "You having been there may not have prevented it at all - it could have made the situation worse, or you might also be under Retsu's care at this very moment."

Ichigo didn't look like he was feeling any better after his fellow taicho's words, his scowl deepening as he stared at his tired face in the mirror. "I just - I just don't understand _why_. She's my bloody fukutaicho; I should have been keeping a better eye on her!"

Kyoraku sighed gently, most likely seeing the stark surprise that morphed onto Rangiku's paling face. "Hinamori-fukutaicho's actions are nobody's but her own. And it's been two years since the war, you weren't the only person to believe that she had recovered. We all thought she had recovered."

Looking very tempted to smash his head against the mirror, Ichigo gave a frustrated groan. "Obviously not enough to act rational around Tōshirō," he spat bitterly, and another piece of the puzzle clicked in Rangiku's brain.

"Hinamori-kun put taicho in the _fourth_?"

Kyoraku's face actually turned to her befitting an expression she had never seen on him before, and Ichigo made another strangled noise from the sink as he asked, "You haven't told her then?"

The look Ichigo shot him was border-lining venomous but the elderly taicho just chuckled, unfazed. "Well then, Rangiku-san," he said, holding out his arm for her as she slowly rose from the floor. "How about we walk and leave Ichigo-kun to sort himself out?"

It wasn't a question, and Rangiku didn't take the offered arm, half-storming out of the door to try and portray just how irritated she was becoming. She just heard Ichigo's muttered, "Thanks Kyoraku-san," before the eighth division taicho shut the bathroom door and wordlessly guided her down the corridor. It took a few minutes for him to start talking, and by then they had found one of the fourth's many gardens to hold their conversation privately.

"I don't know the full details," he began, lifting up the front of his hat to let some of the midday breeze cool his partly-flushed face. "But there was an – _ah –_ accident of sorts involving Hinamori-fukutaicho and Tōshirō-kun. Ichigo-kun told me that today she had one of her monthly appointments and so he had tagged along to wait outside the office for her. The appointments have been going well, as I'm sure you'll know." He paused here, glancing at her, and she nodded her confirmation. A solid two years had passed since Ichigo had taken down Aizen and ended the Winter War, and everybody was recovering smoothly. Hinamori had taken a bit more time than most, but Unohana-taicho had expressed her pride many times of how the young girl was finally collecting herself, dead-straight on the road of recovery.

Having taken up the role of the fifth division taicho after his most unfortunate death, Ichigo had been placed in charge of keeping an eye on his fukutaicho, hence the reason he accompanied her to her monthly appointments. He allowed Hinamori her independence though, only ever getting involved when it was necessary, and just generally hung around the waiting room until one of the fourth officers had given her the 'all clear' for the month.

"Ichigo-kun was a little surprised when Tōshirō-kun arrived, asking if he could talk to Hinamori-fukutaicho," Kyoraku went on, and Rangiku's eyebrows rose up into her hair-line. It was common knowledge, unfortunately, that her taicho's and Hinamori-kun's brother-sister relationship had gone to the dogs after the Winter War; she had been distraught about being attacked by him, even though it had been an honest mistake that Aizen's illusion had brought on, but no matter how many times her friends tried to explain this to her, Hinamori had been set on the fact that Tōshirō had betrayed her.

She had already been betrayed by _'Aizen-taicho'_, she explained again and again, she couldn't believe that her brother had betrayed her too.

Her refusal to talk to him after that sent him spiraling down into depression. Someone had dared to joke that at least Tōshirō had gotten what he always wanted - for her to call him nothing but 'Hitsugaya-taicho' - and the combined force of Rangiku, Ichigo, and Renji had almost given the man a one-way ticket to the fourth. But only 'almost' because they had restrained themselves knowing that Tōshirō would have been displeased.

"Tōshirō-kun must have been hoping that she would be willing to talk to him," sighed Kyoraku. "Understandable I suppose, given the vast amount she had recovered, and Ichigo-kun had thought the same, easily allowing Tōshirō-kun to have some time with her once the appointment was over."

They reached the winding stream that ran through the middle of the garden, and Rangiku took the moment of tense silence to look down at the koi swimming through the trickling cool water, unaffected by Kyoraku's slow-paced explanation.

"I don't understand what happened next," said the taicho with a grave sigh. "And even though I wasn't there to directly witness it, I saw the results. Juushiro-kun and I had been on our way to ask Retsu if she wanted to go out for lunch - she works hard, you know, and we've started getting into the habit of taking turns to pay for the meal - when we felt a huge fluctuation in Tōshirō-kun's reiatsu."

Beside him Rangiku flushed in shame, having been asleep for most of the afternoon and so not having felt the change in her taicho's reiatsu.

"Ichigo-kun was already there when we arrived, and Retsu was quickly on her way. The fourth division members were in a panic as they were all trying to tell us different things at once, but Juushiro-kun and I eventually made it to Hinamori-fukutaicho's appointment room."

He stopped once again, here, and tipped his hat low over his eyes so that it shadowed his face. He suddenly looked much older to Rangiku, she wasn't used to seeing him like that, and this thought made her gasp and hold her breath, waiting for whatever was about to come.

Unusual for her, she had to admit. She didn't expect the unexpected.

"There was - " He paused, mulling over his words. "There was a lot of, not that I would want to admit it - "

"Kyoraku-taicho! Kyoraku-taicho!"

They both turned. Isane was leaning against the door she had just opened, panting and red in the face as if she had just run a great distance. She probably had, considering the relief that blossomed onto her face when she spotted the colourful eighth division taicho standing in the garden, and Rangiku resisted a sigh at the break in their conversation.

"I'm so sorry for interrupting, sir," said Isane, bowing swiftly and ignoring how her braided strands of hair swung against her right cheek. "But Unohana-taicho requires your presence immediately!"

He sighed, though the serious expression on his face told them both that he was anything but annoyed with the sudden announcement. "Deary me," he said in his usual relaxed way, and just before disappearing in a flash he nodded his apology to Rangiku and quietly thanked the worn-out fourth division fukutaicho.

Then he was gone, and Rangiku was barely any nearer to discovering what had happened to her taicho than she was _before _their conversation.

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><p><em>When he felt Tōshirō's reiatsu disappear from the building suddenly, the first thing he thought was that his fellow taicho had shunpoed away. At the time he didn't realize how stupid this thought was - Tōshirō couldn't have exactly jumped out of the office window, even if he probably was small enough - and so, feeling completely relaxed about the situation, Ichigo got up groaning from the stiff waiting-room chair and slowly made his way to where he had left his fukutaicho. The talk between her and Tōshirō had not lasted as long as he had hoped it would, and if Tōshirō's sudden flee from the fourth division wasn't enough of an indication, it hadn't gone as well as he had hoped it would either.<em>

_Nodded politely in return to a pair of officers, Ichigo sighed. He felt bad for his short misunderstood friend - Momo really was recovering, she had improved a lot over the last two years, but it just obviously wasn't enough for her to want to reform her family ties with the waiting tenth division taicho. Ichigo knew, however, that one day they would return to the way they were - he was sure of it. Tōshirō had never been mad at her for her actions - he had explained that there was no reason to be mad; she had every right to be angry (which Ichigo didn't agree with, but he hadn't decided to argue this case) and so he would welcome her back as soon as she was ready. He had also anticipated that it would take her a while to brush off the last dark remnants of Aizen's betrayal and manipulation, and Ichigo silently congratulated him for being ever so patient - two years was a long time to wait, even for those who felt that time seemed to pass at the blink of an eye._

_Reaching his desired destination he knocked on the door, announcing his arrival to his fukutaicho inside. "Hey Momo, can I come in?"_

_When he received no reply he twisted the door knob, feeling slightly guilty at just wandering in, but he could feel her reiatsu buzzing around inside, giving him the impression that she was obviously distraught and in need of some comfort. Not sure whether or not he was the right person to give her this comfort, he hesitantly called again, frowning when the door struck something solid on its journey inwards._

_"Momo are you - ?"_

_There was a bed in the room, a simple one, one of the ones you expected to find in a hospital - plain and dull and completely, utterly white; Ichigo hated hospital beds, hated what they meant when you woke to find yourself lying on one feeling like the world was out to get you. His fukutaicho was on the floor beside the one in this room - she was on her knees, head bowed, hair shadowing her face - she looked like she was praying to be honest, in a shrine and wishing for good health, and peering around the stuck door even further to try and shimmy himself awkwardly into the room to help her, Ichigo found himself quite unprepared for the state of the rest of the room._

_Nothing was out of place. Not one single thing - the pillows were still on the bed and the lamp was still on the table, the flowers were resting peacefully in the vase and the pictures on the walls were perfectly lined up, untouched, undamaged -_

_Covered in thick red blood._

_Ichigo swallowed._

_It didn't take a genius to work out what was blocking the door._

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><p>"Matsumoto-fukutaicho, I'm sure the fourth division pipsqueaks aren't so busy that they can't afford to find you a <em>bed<em>."

The tenth division fukutaicho snapped awake at the sarcastic remark from the disapproving grey eyes staring down at her, and she blushed, averting her own to try and hide her embarrassment from the petite female taicho. Soifon looked far from amused with her arms folded over her chest and her face passive, and she allowed her irritation to vent out at the lazy fukutaicho half curled up in the seat opposite the operating room.

"_Surely _someone who avoids the paperwork as much as _yourself _could find a better place to fall asleep."

Those words stung a little, but the hell Rangiku was going to let it show.

"Sorry Soifon-taicho," she muttered, wiggling in her seat to try and get comfortable. The little woman with the big frown ignored her words in favour of glancing around the empty corridor, her sharp eyes eventually settling on the flashing red light by the door. "I'm looking for Kurosaki-taicho. I'm assuming he's in there."

Briefly wondering if that was a rhetorical question or not, for it was clear that Ichigo was in the operating room due to his overpowering reiatsu level from inside, Rangiku stumbled over her words. "Um - yes - I mean - yes, Soifon-taicho, he's been in there for some time now."

The hawk-like gaze returned to meet worried blue eyes. "I wasn't asking a question, Matsumoto-fukutaicho. I did not need your input."

Rangiku clamped her teeth down onto her tongue to prevent herself from spouting something - _colourful_.

And that was when the red flashing light turned green. Both women gave a start, though Soifon managed to hide it much better than the panicked fukutaicho, and just as Rangiku rose from her seat to do God-knows what to whoever came out of the operating room first, the door slid open and a pair of very tired looking officers stumbled out. One of them was holding a bundle of cloth which, Rangiku realized with her heart leaping into her mouth, was none other than her taicho's kosode, shitagi, and haori, all of which were practically dyed a deep red, and they made their way swiftly down the corridor without stopping to acknowledge the two women in the hallway.

Soifon looked like she wanted to say something about this, but Unohana-taicho appeared in the doorway wearing the scariest expression Rangiku had ever seen on her soft, gentle face and she wisely kept her venomous tongue tucked firmly behind her teeth.

"Kurosaki-taicho will be resting," said the healer in a tone that left no room for argument. "You may speak to him when he is feeling better, Soifon-taicho."

Soifon made a funny little noise that sounded somewhat like a snort before nodding politely to the experienced healer and shunpoing out of the hallway. Unohana turned to Rangiku then, her firm emotionless expression melting somewhat to display sadness, worry, and pain, and Rangiku's heart dropped from her mouth all the way to her stomach.

"Is he - ?"

"Alive," Unohana confirmed, though she didn't sound very relieved. "We will be moving him into an intensive care unit in a little while," she explained, stepping back into the room slightly to allow space for another person in the doorway. "But you may come in and see him, provided that you cause no disruption."

"_Ah _- thank you," Rangiku bowed quickly and slipped into the room. The operating room was bigger than she had imagined it would be, but the layout was must how she had always pictured it - a single table in the middle and trays and trolleys of tools and equipment that she didn't want to know the uses for were the most prominent objects in the room, but there were also a couple of chairs lining the far wall and a deep sink to the left, things that didn't quite fit the image. The fukutaicho dodged out of the way as Isane whizzed past, muttering an apology to her friend and carrying bags of clear liquid Rangiku guessed was for the IV set up beside the table.

And there was her taicho, deeply unconscious and half covered by a thin white sheet that he appeared to merge into, the coils of bandages from his waist all the way to the middle of his neck, the sickly paleness of his skin, and his thick strands of drooping snowy hair almost creating an illusion and hiding him from the concerned eyes of the half-dozen people milling about the room.

"Oh _taicho_."

As much as she wanted to offer some comfort while his chest struggled with each raspy breath, Rangiku didn't dare touch him in fear that she may hurt him even more.

"He's strong," came Kyoraku's wise voice, from the other side of the table. He was watching Tōshirō's painful breathing also, his eyebrows dipped and, much to Rangiku's surprise, his favourite straw hat discarded from his head. "He'll pull through, don't you worry."

"Yeah," added Ichigo from his place sagged in one of the chairs, trying his best to smile through the weariness and despair in his eyes. "He's made it this far, he's much too stubborn to die now."

That must was true, at least, and it gave Rangiku a spark of hope.

Yes, her taicho was strong. He'll be back doing the paperwork in no time.

"So..." she said after a moment's pause in which the room began to empty. Ichigo remained in his chair, looking far too tired to even stand, but Kyoraku wandered over to Unohana when she called for him, and they spoke in hushed whispers out of character for both of them. Isane had collected everything she needed, it seemed, for she was now running checks on the monitor Tōshirō was attached to and the IV bag hooked up, hanging over his head, the rest of the blood solutions and clear liquid Rangiku couldn't label was stacked neatly on one of the trays, ready for use. Ten of the leads fanning out from the operation table, and evidently her taicho, was for the smallish box-like monitor that, at first, the tenth division fukutaicho didn't recognise. The clear tube was for the IV, that was easy to tell, but only after watching the distinct pattern on the monitor did she know what it was for.

It was an electrocardiogram - a machine for keeping check on the heart's activity.

Was her taicho's _heart _damaged?

"Room sixteen is ready, Unohana-taicho."

The attention of everybody in the room and not just her taicho was obviously too much for the officer standing in the doorway, and she blushed furiously as the kind healer nodded to her words. "Thank you Chika," said Unohana-taicho, silently dismissing the young girl with a smile. The door made no sound as it slid shut, but Rangiku wouldn't have heard it anyway, her attention focused on Unohana's orders.

"Isane, is Hitsugaya-taicho ready to be moved?"

"Yes taicho."

Unohana nodded and Kyoraku backed away from the table to allow her to do what was required. Rather unsure as to how her taicho was about to be moved, unconscious and attached to a heart monitor and an IV, Rangiku wasn't really surprised when Unohana's next words were addressed to her.

"If you could meet us in room sixteen, Matsumoto-fukutaicho, it would be very much appreciated."

Considering it was the kindest 'get out' Rangiku had ever experienced, she nodded without a word of complaint and left the room.

* * *

><p>She wasn't sure who she was more concerned about; her taicho, unconscious and severely wounded but in the capable hands of the excellent fourth division taicho, or Ichigo, slumped in the first seat he could find, clearly exhausted far beyond his limit, and ignoring all suggestions that he find himself a bed to rest in.<p>

After fluttering her attention between the pair of them for a minute, Rangiku came to the conclusion that Ichigo was the person she should be more concerned about at the moment, even if the state of her taicho made her body panic in ways that she had never experienced before.

"Ichigo, why don't you - "

"Not gonna rest," interrupted the taicho, his arms folded on the edge of Tōshirō's hospital bed and his face pressed into the mattress. "I owe you an explanation."

It took Rangiku a moment to remember that she still didn't know exactly what had happened to her taicho, and Ichigo had promised to tell her.

"You don't have - "

"Yes. I do."

He raised his head from the bed and brought one of his arms up, resting his chin in the open palm. "Tōshirō's not going to be around the tenth for a while," he began, and Rangiku just nodded, having expected such. His voice was determined and hard, despite how weak he looked, and she didn't want to interrupt him when this might be the only time for him to get everything off of his chest. "And I mean _a while _- having one of his arms blown clean off was just the tip of the iceberg."

That... was news to her.

"Oh."

"Yeah." And Ichigo shot her a smile, a sick, twisted, 'the fuck, I know' smile that sent shivers down her spine. "Unohana-taicho managed to reattach it though, but she had some trouble – it _was _the same arm that Aizen chopped off. But he lost a whole chunk out of his shoulder too - and his neck. He might have spinal damage and so _may _be paralyzed, but..."

He trailed off, noticing that Rangiku was looking a bit sick.

"Sorry," he muttered quickly, flushing in shame at having put his friend through that. "Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head, feeling terrible about doing so but wanting to know what had happened to her taicho - she already knew that Hinamori was involved, but to think that she had done this much damage to her childhood friend was just... absurd.

"Well," continued Ichigo, his voice much gentler than before. "Um - he lost a lot of blood, the left shoulder has a close connection to the heart, see, and Unohana-taicho's worried that his heart might be damaged - that's why he's hooked up to the electro-thingy - Unohana-taicho wants to be prepared. And - " He stole another unsure glance in her direction, but she just motioned for him to continue. "Major lung damage. Unohana-taicho's put him in a sort of make-shift Iron Lung - do you know what they are?"

She shook her head, wondering how Unohana-taicho could have 'put' her taicho in something when he was clearly lying before them with nothing but the sheet covering him.

"Well, they make a person breathe by changing pressure levels around the torso - it's kinda complicated to explain, and putting him in an actual Iron Lung would have been impracticable, not that there are any in Soul Society anyway, so we combined a different bunch of kido to recreate it. It was hard, but, as you can see - "

He gently pressed one of his fingers into the air just a few inches above Tōshirō's chest. An invisible barrier shimmered under his touch, flickering in a soft green light for a moment before becoming transparent once again.

"It worked."

At Rangiku's blank look he went to jab it again, trying to prove his point, but her hands shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Stop! Won't that damage it?"

He sent her a reassuring smile, hoping that she'd relax her painful grip on him. "It's not going to collapse, Rangiku-san, don't worry. It's air-tight, very strong. And Unohana-taicho and Kyoraku-san are both kido experts, they know what they're doing."

A weary look. He really did feel bad for her.

"Trust me."

She let him go. Tōshirō gave a whimper and they both apologised instantly for squabbling.

Rangiku cleared her throat nervously after a moment's pause, picking at her nails. "So, um, how else is taicho... wounded...?"

Ichigo gave a surprised, "Oh" but cleared his throat also, thinking his answer over for a minute. "His left lung had the top of it destroyed, which explains the Iron Lung thing-y, it was blasted clean off along with the rest of the shoulder..." He chewed his lip, dipping his eyebrows together. "...And chest... and arm... a - and neck..."

He suddenly couldn't believe what he was saying. He had been there when Unohana-taicho had performed the operation, or, at least, he had been there for most of it; reiatsu support was what he had been needed for, what he had been urgently called for, and he supposed it made sense - he had plenty of reiatsu to go around. He was glad that his excessive amount was good for at least _one thing _(or maybe he shouldn't be happy about that, he wasn't sure) but to now be talking about what he had seen - what he had tried to ignore throughout the whole operation (_Don't think Ichigo, don't think, just work, do what Unohana-taicho says, keep Tōshirō alive and don't think_) made the situation much more real, as silly as that sounded.

"Fucking hell!"

Rangiku gave a start at his vulgar language, more shocked at the shout than the profanities. Ichigo had thrown his arms up above his head as if to slam them back down again in anger, but his chair had tipped back without warning and almost sent him crashing to the floor; the sudden jolt of fear must have knocked him back on course for he was instantly calm, quiet, his hands gripping the edge of Tōshirō's bed to save himself from falling again.

She wondered if slapping him would have produced the same affect, but it was too late to try it out now. Ichigo had buried his face back into the mattress with a defeated sigh, and soon the only sound in the dismal room was the steady beeping of the heart monitor that had been brought in with the patient.

_Patient _- ergh, that word tasted funny.

"But Unohana-taicho fixed him up, right?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Ichigo looked like he really didn't want to answer, and that made her feel slightly guilty, but he had been on a roll and she was desperate to know more. "I mean, he's got his arm and - "A quick glance down confirmed her next words. "And he hasn't got a hole in his shoulder - "

"True," said Ichigo, lifting his head by an inch. "Kido still amazes me you know. And it was a bloody big hole." He reached across Tōshirō's still form and drew a circle in the air to show where the hole in his body had been. It wasn't really a circle, Rangiku mused, as the major sector had missed her taicho's chest, but it still meant that a large portion of her taicho's body had been hit (almost half of his neck and practically the whole of his left shoulder) by what, she assumed, was a very controlled, concentrated, and powerful kido spell (for no blade would have done that much damage).

Hinamori was a master at kido.

"I thought we'd lost him a couple of times during the operation, but I wouldn't have been surprised if we had. I honestly thought he was dead when I found him with Momo - he certainly looked it - but he's strong, really strong. _Not even in a coma _- Unohana-taicho was amazed."

Rangiku was shaking her head in horror. "How did he _survive_?"

"It's 'cause we reacted fast - I was in the room in under a minute, and growing up with a doctor for a father had taught me some stuff. We were also in the fourth when it happened; anywhere else and I reckon he would have died during transportation. Unohana-taicho was worried that he would _even though _we were in the fourth; I think she had a half-mind to perform the operation in the appointment room."

She didn't know much about the workings of the fourth division, but, "Wouldn't that have been tricky?"

"Hell yeah," agreed Ichigo, nodding a couple of times. "But healers have to think on their feet, and they've got to be able to do their jobs on the field too. It probably wouldn't have been the whole operation anyway, just enough to keep him alive till we could move him. Mind you, it took four taicho to stabilize Tōshirō - "

"_Four?_"

Ichigo looked like he couldn't believe it either, and he had been one of said four. "I know, and a fukutaicho, though Isane did most of the running around."

He surely meant traveling back and forth to collect equipment, but all that came to Rangiku's mind was an image of her bashful friend panicking and throwing her arms up about in the air. It amused her, and a small, ghost of a smile appeared on her face; opposite her, Ichigo relaxed slightly.

"When will he wake up?"

"Don't know." He shot her an apologetic look, knowing how much she hated paperwork. "But I'm sure Yamamoto will sort things out."

"Does he know? What's happened, that is."

Shrugging, Ichigo replied. "Kyoraku-san's probably gone to tell him. I wouldn't be surprised if we all get called to a meeting soon, to clear - oh, look at that."

A Hell Butterfly had just flown in through the window. Grinning mischievously at his psychic skills, Ichigo held out his hand for the delicate little creature. It relayed a message and then flew off to find another taicho, and the young man sighed, sorting out his haori.

"Gotta go Rangiku-san, sorry."

She nodded numbly. "Have I been - ?"

"Nah, just the taichos," he said, waving off the second half of her question. "I dunno when I'll be back - the old man sure can waffle for a bloody long time, and I think Soifon wanted to talk to me. Don't think I'll be able to escape her."

He chuckled, and Rangiku smiled along with him. "Thanks, Ichigo," she muttered when he opened the door to leave. Her hands were cupping one of her taicho's unresponsive ones, her eyes sad, and she didn't turn around as she spoke. Ichigo didn't either, waving over his shoulder; "Keep your thanks, I don't deserve it."

The door slid shut behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: <strong>Did I ever mention that I don't like Hinamori? No? Please review!

(The open end is deliberate. This _will not_ be continued)


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